G Words
by aMUSEment345
Summary: Hetty has a lesson for a struggling Deeks. Takes place in season 8.
1. Chapter 1

_**A.N. Takes place in season 8, after Kensi's recovery.**_

* * *

 _ **G Words**_

He never saw it coming.

He'd seen a thousand other things coming, like bullets, and explosions, and the possibility of getting hurt or even killed. He'd even seen the possibility that any of those things could happen to _her_. He'd seen the actuality of it, too. Her trauma, her depression, her hard-fought recovery, her recent return to work. He'd seen all of those things.

But this….he never saw _this_ coming. Never.

He'd walked into the mission with Kensi just as he'd done thousands of times in the past. He'd greeted his co-workers, absorbed their teasing, both gentle and more pointed, and even sent some back their way. He'd fired up his laptop while listening to Kensi tell Callen and Sam about their weekend plans, watching her smile, listening to her laugh, and….

It came upon him suddenly, unbidden, unexpected. Like a rogue wave, it crested over him when his back was to it, when he hadn't had time to direct the board, when he wasn't prepared to mount it, and subdue it. By the time he realized its threatening presence, it was too late. Instinctively, he knew he had no way to fight it, no way not to succumb. The only thing he could do was to make sure there were no witnesses to his demise.

Kensi stopped in midsentence, caught completely off guard by the sight of her partner racing down the hallway. Her colleagues appeared equally startled, as all three exchanged puzzled looks. Sam even called up to OPS.

"Eric…is there something going on?"

"Uh….not yet. Why, did Hetty say we have a case?" Fearing he'd missed something.

"Naw. Never mind. It's probably just Deeks, being Deeks."

Which sounded plausible to all of them. So they carried on with their conversation, anticipating that their LAPD liaison would reappear with some bizarre object, or factoid, or theory. Definitely a story. But when ten minutes had passed without his return, they each began to worry, just a little bit.

"I'm just going to go and check on him," announced Kensi. But Callen stopped her.

"Let me. He might be in the men's room. He looked a little pale when he left."

"He did? I didn't even see…," replied Kensi. Then she began taking mental inventory of possible clues to his illness. "We both had Yummy Yummy Heart Attack for dinner last night, and I feel fine. So it can't be that."

Sam snorted. "Are you kidding me? With a name like that? It might not be making him sick today, but it will probably kill him in thirty years."

"Ha. We like to think of it as building fortitude," informed Kensi.

"More like building plaque," muttered Sam.

Kensi continued her inventory. "He didn't feel warm, so I don't think he has a fever. And he ate okay this morning. He even caught a few waves. He hasn't seemed sick at all."

Rather than reassuring him, Kensi's words heightened Callen's concern. Run-of-the-mill, every illness was one thing. But something coming on so suddenly had the possibility to be much more ominous.

"Let me just check." _I wouldn't want him to be having a heart attack, Yummy Yummy type or not._

Sam saw the worry on Kensi's face and tried to distract her while Callen went to check on their absent colleague.

"So, did 'the moms' vacate the premises yet?"

He soon realized he'd chosen the right material.

"Oh, my God, yes! Thank God! They were driving us crazy. Did you know….."

* * *

Callen pushed open the door of the final stall, finding it as empty as the rest. Deeks obviously hadn't fled to the bathroom.

 _Must have gone outside_. Which was where the team leader headed next.

The courtyard was empty, but Callen's sensitive hearing picked up the sound of heavy breathing, and he followed it around the side of the building, behind a terraced vine.

"Deeks! Are you all right?"

Finding the words ridiculous even as he uttered them. His colleague clearly wasn't 'all right'. Marty Deeks was on his knees, bent in two, chest heaving, his skin nearly as pale as the cement of the bench behind him. Callen moved in quickly.

"Can you breathe? Can you talk?"

Wondering if his colleague was choking on something, mentally reviewing the steps of the Heimlich maneuver. His mind shifted direction when he succeeded in unfolding Deeks and got a better look at him. The young detective's face was awash in tears.

Callen was alarmed. As far as he knew, nothing had happened to precipitate this. Deeks had been fine one minute, and seemingly collapsed the next. He hadn't even taken a phone call, or checked a text.

 _Is he having some sort of breakdown? A stroke?_

Callen whipped out his phone, only to feel Deeks' hand on his arm, trying to restrain him.

"Don't…", he panted. "Please don't…."

"You don't want me to call anyone? But…what's wrong? What's wrong with you?"

Deeks finally succeeded in calming his breaths down to a series of hiccoughs. Exhausted from his ordeal, he sat back on his heels, his head hung to his chest. When he mumbled a reply, Callen could barely hear him.

"What did you say?"

"I… don't….I don't know. It just hit me." Still panting, and looking like he might fall over any minute.

Callen reached strong arms around his colleague's back and lifted him, guiding him to the bench. He waited until Deeks was able to speak. They sat in silence, Deeks hunched forward, elbows on knees, head in his hands. It was a long time before he had breath enough to put behind his words.

"I was just….and then…..it was all so _normal_. You guys…and then she laughed, and it was all _normal._ And it just hit me….and I couldn't…..I had to get out of there."

To someone else, he might have sounded incoherent. But not to Callen. For G Callen, Deeks' words resonated with something buried deep within. Something _he'd_ buried, a long time ago.

"Ah. G words."

Deeks was feeling so addled, he assumed it was him, garbling what Callen had said. He shook his head, trying to get his brain to decode correctly again.

"What?"

"G words. I learned them a long time ago, from someone we both know. In fact…."

He started reaching for his phone again.

"Oh, no, no, no, no, please don't call Hetty! She'll send me to the looney bin. Not that I don't belong there, maybe I do. But…please, I love my job."

Callen smiled, even as he tapped out a text. "You'll still have your job. I just think you need to hear this from the master. I can't do her justice."

Deeks hung his head in the dual misery of whatever was happening to him, and the knowledge that his boss was soon to see it first hand. Beside him, Callen kept a reassuring hand on his friend's back. As they waited, Callen had time to muse a bit about the evolution of his relationship with the LAPD detective.

In Callen's esteem, Deeks had once been an unwanted, untrusted burden to bear, just another one of Hetty's enigmatic chess moves. But, in time, the enigma had begun to reveal itself in the steadfastness of the man under pressure, and the keenness of his intellect, even if he chose to hide both of those things behind a breezy chattiness. Callen had begun to think that maybe Hetty wasn't so crazy after all.

But what had won Callen over more than anything, whether or not he would ever admit it, had been Deeks' care and tending of Kensi. Callen had developed a fondness for the young woman that went beyond the work relationship. She'd become the little sister to his would-be big brother. He'd been anxious about pairing her with someone he considered under-qualified to be an agent, no matter her own impressive skills. And then he'd been pleasantly surprised to see Marty Deeks win both her respect for his work in the field, and her trust, for as Callen well knew, that trust was extremely hard won.

Deeks had come through for Sam as well, and Michelle, and been severely traumatized for the favor. He'd been shaken, tremendously so. But he'd not been broken. He'd been there to retrieve Kensi from Afghanistan, and to broker the deal that accomplished it. And he'd been there for the ordeal from which she had only recently recovered. For many months of the recent past, as she'd tried to rebound from a devastating injury, he'd nurtured her, and encouraged her, and given her his heart when hers wasn't in it.

Callen had watched it all, watched the tortuously slow progress of his female teammate, watched the steady waning of energy and strength in her fiancé, as he worked all day and spent each night at the hospital. As team leader, Callen had to be concerned about the readiness of his team to enter into the kinds of battles they fought nearly every day. He'd been concerned about Deeks, to the point of bringing it to Hetty. The OPS manager had dealt with it as inscrutably as she dealt with most things.

"Work is the most normal aspect of his life right now, Mr. Callen. Let him hold on to it." Turning, on her way out the door, to add, "But be careful about it."

Fortunately, he had confidence that Hetty would be more helpful in the current circumstance. When he heard the building's door open, he left Deeks, and stepped around the terrace to fill Hetty in.

"He's okay. It just caught up with him. You knew that would happen, didn't you?"

She gave him a very small, knowing smile. "As I'm sure you did as well, Mr. Callen."

He smiled in return. "Yeah, I guess I did. Anyway, I was going to try to explain it to him, but...well, I thought you might want to."

"You thought _I_ might want to?" That inscrutably small smile again. "Or is it because you _don't_ want to?"

He wasn't having it. He knew her better than she thought. Hetty had an affection for their young detective friend. There were limits to her abilities, despite what she would have all of them think. But her ability to give comfort to Deeks in this instance wasn't limited. Despite her words, Callen knew she saw his deference as a gift. But he wasn't going to tell her that. Instead, he spoke another truth.

"Because he deserves to hear it from you. It will be good for him."

The older head bobbed just the slightest bit. "All right. Why don't you go in and explain it to Miss Blye? Mr. Hanna is having trouble keeping her distracted. Tell her, and ask her to wait until I've sent for her."

Callen could easily picture an adamant Kensi demanding to be allowed to seek out her fiancé and tend to whatever was ailing him. He smiled.

"Will do. He's all yours."

* * *

Staring ahead, Deeks felt the powerful, compact presence approach him, and take the seat next to him on the bench. He couldn't bring himself to turn his head to look at her. Which didn't stop Hetty.

"Mr. Deeks."

He just closed his eyes and shook his head.

"I'm sorry. I just….I'm sorry."

Hetty tilted her head to look at him sidewise.

"Whatever for, Mr. Deeks?"

He chanced a look in her direction, then smiled derisively to himself.

 _You thought you were going to learn something from her facial expression?_

"I lost it. I'm sorry. I don't know what happened. But I'll make sure it doesn't happen again."

Hetty held his gaze for a long moment.

"I'm not sure you have that power, Mr. Deeks. Did you have it a few minutes ago?"

"Touche. But it caught me off guard. Now I know better."

"Really. What, may I ask, was it that caught you off guard?"

He almost gave her another 'touche', but it made him feel foolish.

"All right, I don't really know. But Callen seems to think you do. Something to do with him."

Now Hetty looked puzzled. "With Mr. Callen?"

"Yes. He said something about 'G words'. Doesn't that have to do with him? The guy with the one letter first name?"

"Ah, I see. No, I'm afraid that's just coincidental. He was referring to the words that describe what happened to you this morning."

Deeks squinted at her in curiosity. " _This_ happened to Callen?" He'd seen bursts of anger and indignation in their team leader, but he'd never seen Callen incapacitated by emotion.

"He was much younger then. It was in the time after he first came into my care."

Callen's early life and his mysterious pre-NCIS connection to Hetty were all part of some nebulous background information that had yet to be shared with Deeks. He had a feeling they might never be shared.

"You're not going to tell me about that, are you?" Testing his theory.

"No, Mr. Deeks, I'm not."

He nodded his concession, smiling cynically. "All right. So, what are these 'G words'?"

Not unexpectedly, Hetty answered indirectly, with an observation.

"You've recently been through a great trial in your life."

Deeks dismissed it. "Me? It was Kensi who went through that. You know, the tough brunette who's probably thinking I've lost my mind right about now."

"You weren't under stress?"

Deeks looked at her sharply.

"Of course I was. But it's over now. She's okay. She made it back."

Hetty nodded her agreement.

"She did, thankfully. But not even the doctors could be sure of her outcome."

"They don't know Kensi."

"Does that mean you were always certain she would have a full recovery?"

Leaning forward, Deeks studied his clasped hands. His response was barely audible.

"No."

"No. In fact, even after Ms. Blye was no longer in danger of her life, you knew there was a possibility that she…and you, would still suffer a tremendous loss."

He filled up again, in spite of his personal vow to get a grip on himself. Hetty heard it in the hoarseness of his voice.

"But we didn't. We could have, but we didn't."

" _You_ could have, Mr. Deeks. We're talking about what _you_ went through."

She'd precipitated a rare moment of silence from Marty Deeks, and took advantage of it.

"You grieved, Mr. Deeks. You grieved her before you knew she could be saved. And then you grieved the life you'd hoped she would live. The life you'd hoped you would live together."

He tilted his head away from her, so she couldn't see the effect her words were having on him. But he could feel wetness on his cheek again, and knew his eyes had betrayed him to her. Hetty continued as though he'd responded aloud.

"Grief is a powerful thing, Mr. Deeks. It demands our acknowledgement, and our respect."

He sniffled, giving up the façade.

"She got better. Isn't that all that matters? Anyway, I didn't have time to spend wallowing."

Hetty let him sit with that for a moment before speaking again.

"Yes, I remember. You came into OPS, you worked your cases. And then you spent every other moment at the hospital."

He misread her intent.

"Did I slip up? No! I did my job. There's nothing to complain about."

Hetty let the rebuke go.

"I'm not complaining, Mr. Deeks. Indeed, your work was as impeccable as always."

That got him to turn quickly.

"You're playing me, now. You've never considered my work to be 'impeccable'."

She nodded. "Perhaps we'll have another conversation about that, one day. The point today is that you didn't allow yourself to acknowledge what you were going through. It's not an uncommon phenomenon. Many people seek to evade grief by keeping busy."

"I wasn't evading…."

"It wasn't your _reason_ , Mr. Deeks. But it had the same effect. As I told you, grief will not be ignored. It will seek you out when you least expect it."

The young man next to her shook his head, squinting his doubt at her.

"That's what you think this is? Grief? Why now? Why, when things are back to normal?"

The word he'd used to describe to Callen what had happened. The thought he'd had, just before it had overwhelmed him. He could feel the sensation coming again, and stopped himself abruptly, before it could take his breath away once again.

Seeing, Hetty laid a hand over his shoulder.

"There is another side to grief, Mr. Deeks. It's what fills us when the grief is relieved. But it's also the reason we grieve in the first place."

He looked at her, his voice having left him, his watering eyes having to ask the question for him _._

 _What are you talking about?_

"Gratitude, Mr. Deeks. An appreciation for the gifts we've been given, whether lost or found. When we grieve, it's because we have first loved. Without love, there would be no loss."

Hetty watched him closely, looking for the moment of comprehension. When she saw it, she smiled to herself in satisfaction.

 _I always knew you were astute._

"You're saying it hit me because I'm grateful? Because I had a moment of ….. of what…. of _nothing_?"

"Not 'nothing', Mr. Deeks. You had a moment where you had no worry, no sorrow, no loss, nor pain. You've had many such moments in your life, no doubt. We all have. We just don't notice them. We don't _appreciate_ them. What you had, was a moment of awareness."

The truth in her words resonated with him, and filled him up once again. He had to swallow before he could speak.

"I had a moment where I realized how blessed I was."

She squeezed his shoulder in affirmation.

"You did. And it was all the more precious to you because you'd been afraid you'd lost the very possibility of it."

He processed for a moment. "Grief. It leads to gratitude, just like gratitude leads to grief? Those are Callen's 'G words'?"

"They are two sides of the same coin, Mr. Deeks. One doesn't exist without the other."

"But why now? Why not when she first came home? Or when she started back to work?"

Hetty shrugged her shoulders. "Who knows? Perhaps we see things better with some perspective, some distance of time, or space."

Marty Deeks heaved a huge sigh, and finally sat back into the bench. He kept his gaze on the middle distance.

"So I'm not going crazy?"

"Not yet, Mr. Deeks."

He chuckled. "Touche, again. So, what do I do? I can't very well run out on a case like I ran out this morning. I mean, it literally brought me to my knees."

Hetty patted his leg. "You acknowledge it, and give yourself time for grieving, and for being thankful. You need tending to, Mr. Deeks. You've done too much tending of others. I'm ordering you to go home and be tended to. And I will order Miss Blye to do the tending."

He smiled at that. "Are you saying she's in charge of me? Because I don't know if that's a good idea."

"Trust me, Mr. Deeks. It's an excellent idea."

Hetty rose, and started to step away. But a thought made her turn and address him once again.

"There was an old orthodox bishop who used to….assist…me with some of my work in Romania. In exchange, he liked to pontificate with words of wisdom. Listening to him was the cost of doing business. He once told me what it's called when we fall to our knees. It's called 'genuflection'."

"Hmph. Another 'G word'."

Hetty smiled. "So it is. He told me it's reserved for things that demand respect, and reverence."

"Like grief, and gratitude. And...and the Big Guy who answered my prayers."

Hetty nodded once before turning away again.

"Yes. Although I think the word 'big' is unnecessary, and entirely overrated."

* * *

 _ **A.N. This was originally intended as a one shot, but there may be another chapter, to give us a glimpse of how Deeks is tended to.**_


	2. Chapter 2

**_A.N. I agree with those who thought chapter one could stand alone. But I was too curious to see what happened next. Two-shot, now complete._**

* * *

 _ **G Words**_

 _ **Chapter 2**_

She'd been back for a few weeks, really back, and it had felt so good. She'd a thousand times….no, make that a million times….rather be the one helping others than the one who needed help. To be back in the familiar role had been bliss, even considering the nature of what they dealt with every day.

She'd been home for more than a month before Hetty had allowed her back into the field. She'd thought she'd proven herself, having long since left behind the need for help with all but a few things. She just couldn't manage a back button or a zipper, but her lover had always seemed to take delight in handling those tasks, even when she hadn't needed help with them.

 _And besides, all I ever wear to work are pullover tees._

It had all begun to feel familiar again, even her own body, so long a stranger to her. The relationships she cherished were back in her life, the work that made it all feel worthwhile. She'd been feeling happy, and content. Until just now.

Now, she felt guilty.

Callen had done his best to explain to her what had happened with Deeks. And, really, it shouldn't have surprised her. She'd tried to bring it up to him a few times, and he'd responded by making a joke of it, or changing the subject.

 _Of course, it didn't help that we were in the middle of a case. And he is Deeks, after all._

The man who loved to talk about any and everything, except his own feelings. Of course, if she was being honest, she'd honed her own avoidance skills to near perfection.

 _What a pair we are. I can just imagine our kids._

Except that she couldn't quite, which was one of the things she avoided talking about. She still wasn't prepared for _that_ conversation. But that didn't mean she couldn't follow Hetty's orders today.

As they passed in the hallway, Kensi nodded to her OPS manager. She felt Hetty's hand ever so briefly touch her arm, stopping her for a second.

"Callen explained it to me," Kensi told her.

Hetty nodded.

"Don't be alarmed. But don't be complacent, either. You both have work to do."

The extra second Hetty held her gaze told Kensi that the 'work' she'd referenced had nothing to do with NCIS.

"Understood. And, Hetty….thank you."

The older woman gave her a small smile.

"You're welcome. Now go and see to that young man, please."

Kensi smiled. "Yes, ma'am."

* * *

He caught sight of her as she rounded the terrace, hanging his head in resignation. Not that he didn't appreciate the chance to spend more time with her. But he felt like it had been brought about because of a failing on his part.

He felt her arms wrap around him as she came up behind him, her chin perched over his shoulder.

"You okay?"

He sighed. "Apparently not."

She'd laid her palm over his heart, and could feel its rapid beating, residua from what he'd been through, and all she wanted to do was to make it better. She tilted her head so she could kiss his cheek, prompting him to land one on the back of her hand.

"I love you," she whispered into his ear.

"Thank God."

She smiled at that, and stood, inviting him to do the same.

"Come on, let's go, before Hetty changes her mind."

He let himself be pulled up, and walked alongside her to the car, in totally un-Deeks-like silence. It was so out of character that Kensi felt like she was traveling in uncharted territory, without a compass. She didn't know which way to go, nor what to do, other than to love him. But, as she drove, instinct took over and answered the geographical part of the question for her, when she found herself making the turn toward the beach, and not toward their home.

Beside her, Deeks didn't seem to notice, until they pulled to a stop at the edge of the sand.

"We're….why are we here?"

She shrugged. "I don't know."

Deeks stared forward, watching the surf roll in, wave after wave after wave. Finally, he opened the door and got out of the car. Kensi followed his example, catching up to him as he set foot on the sand, happy when he extended his hand to her. They walked down toward the water together, until Deeks stopped, and stood, and stared once again.

"It felt like this," he said.

Kensi turned to him, not understanding, but somehow afraid to say so. It seemed so important that she get inside his head today.

He was aware enough to realize he'd been cryptic. Part of him wanted to leave it that way, to not examine too finely what he'd gone through today, nor during her ordeal.

 _Because,_ he argued to himself, _that's what it was. 'Her' ordeal. It's like I told her, I was just along for the ride. Really, what did I have to do besides sleep on a couch?_

He'd no sooner finished the thought when he was startled to hear the echo of Hetty's words chastising him for avoidance, largely because he heard them spoken in her voice. She'd told him he needed to work through how it had all affected _him_. The grief, the fear, the hopelessness each time Kensi's progress had taken a step backward. The gratitude, at the end.

It wasn't in his nature to dwell too long inside his own mind. There were too many ghosts of a childhood filled with trauma, a youth filled with questionable choices, and an adulthood in which he'd encountered, and sometimes absorbed, the pain and suffering of far too many other unfortunate souls, in addition his own. If he spent too much time visiting that past, he'd long feared, he might get lost in it.

But there was also a part of Marty Deeks that was a philosopher. A part that touched upon all of those things he'd come to know about humans, both good and bad, without delving too deeply. That part of him knew the truth of what Hetty had said. It demanded his attention now, and would not be silenced.

Obedient to it, he lowered himself to the sand and patted the space next to him, inviting Kensi to do the same.

"It came over me, just like a wave. I didn't see it coming, didn't know what it was. I just knew I had to get out of there before I made a fool of myself." He laughed derisively. "I know, why start now, right?"

His eyes were on the surf, while hers studied him.

"Stop it. You're not a fool. Something happened to you. Callen said it all caught up with you, the time in the hospital, my recovery…..everything."

He dropped his gaze to the sand. "Kind of."

She reminded him. "Do you remember, I tried to ask you about it. I realized there were ways in which you'd been through more than I had. I don't even remember the accident, or the time after. But you lived through _all_ of it."

He'd never told her about it. Never wanted to revisit the pure terror of them not being able to get her out. Of trying time, after time, after time to move the immovable copter from atop her. Of the moment she'd stopped responding to him, and his fear that he'd already lost her. He'd never even told her about those few precious seconds of relief after Callen and Sam had yoked themselves to the infernal machine and tilted it just enough for him to pull her out. Never told her about the fright that had come upon him a moment later, when he'd gotten a glimpse of the state of her leg, and the blood she'd lost.

Never told her, nor Callen, nor Sam, nor anyone, the guilt he'd felt, wondering if _he'd_ hurt her, if his pulling and pushing and tugging at her had made her injury worse.

Deeks shook his head. He didn't know what was wrong with him. Those images had haunted his days and nights for months, but they hadn't broken him down. He'd barricaded them with work, and watchfulness over Kensi, never allowing them more than a split second's intrusion into his consciousness. But now, today, he felt so raw, he had such precarious control of his emotions…..he struggled as mightily as he knew how, but the memories of that time brought salt and water together in his eyes, and they began to overflow once again.

Kensi saw the wetness brimming his lids, and felt her heart catch. She'd seen so many of his moods. She'd seen him serious, and solicitous, and sympathetic. She'd seem him angry and righteously indignant. She'd seen him deeply moved, she'd seen him unable to speak. But she'd never seen him weep.

"Babe…." Reaching her arms around him from her place beside him. "Tell me. I'm right here, next to you. Nothing can hurt me now. Nothing, except not being able to help you."

He looked over at her, and then slowly turned his face back to the ocean. It was a few minutes before he felt it safe to speak.

"I thought I would lose you right there. We couldn't get you out, and I thought you would die right in the middle of that godforsaken desert. And I remember thinking, 'if she does, I'm going to just lie down and stay here with her, forever'.

The shaking of his voice, and the simple statement of defeat, the idea that he'd wanted to die with her, brought Kensi to tears as well. Still holding him, she leaned her head in and laid it against his shoulder.

"I made a lot of promises out there in the desert. Told the Big Guy I would do anything if only He would let you live. When I saw your leg, I told Him I didn't even care about that. Just please give my Kensalina back to me."

Such a little thing, but she was profoundly moved by the idea of him using one of his pet names for her as he pled for her life. To Kensi, it felt emblematic of their relationship, as full of affection as it was of their deep, abiding love.

"Guess you must be on the right side of that Big Guy, because I'm here."

Reminding him gently that all of the things they were talking about were in their past.

Deeks nodded. "Yeah, well I didn't stay there long. Because I thought the most serious injury was to your leg. When the doctors told us about your spine….God, Kens, I thought it was my fault. I thought I'd pulled you too hard, or twisted you, or shoved you the wrong way, trying to get you out."

That caught her completely off guard. The thought that he'd been carrying that particular burden….

"Oh, no, babe, no! The only thing you were responsible for was saving my life."

She shifted around to be in front of him, and took his face in her hands, demanding his eyes.

"Please don't ever believe otherwise. You didn't hurt me, you could never hurt me. All you did was to love me, and encourage me, and bear with me."

She saw something flash across his features, and it triggered a barely imprinted memory from early in her recovery. That first memory was followed by several others, and the whole cascade caused her to sit back, with the astonishment of discovery.

"Oh. Oh, my God, I was awful to you."

He started to deny it, but she wouldn't let him.

"No. We're _supposed_ to be talking about this, remember?" Closing her eyes in anguish. "God, I was awful. All you ever did was try to be patient with me, and give me reasons to hold on, and I kept pushing you away, shoving all of your kindnesses back in your face."

Getting more upset with each word, and each memory. Her emotional response pulled Deeks out of his own.

"Kens, Kens, no. You weren't awful. You were going through something life-altering. Scary. Something that... you couldn't know if it would end. I understood that."

"But I kept pushing you away! And I know how much I hurt you. I remember the look on your face!"

Tears flowing now, and it was Deeks' turn to comfort her. He pulled both of her hands into one of his own, and cupped her cheek with the other.

"We were both in a lot of pain then, Kens. As much as I wanted to be there for you, I was afraid that I wouldn't know how. Or that I wouldn't be enough. I was afraid of failing you, and that was the last thing I wanted. So, yes, of course it hurt, but not because of what you said to me. There was nothing I wanted more than to comfort you, and you weren't ready to be comforted. That's all it was. It was the situation, baby. It wasn't _us_."

Her eyes bored into his, hoping to see what he'd said as truth. Praying for it, because the last thing she ever wanted to do was to hurt him.

 _Punch him, maybe. But not hurt him at his core._

He smiled tentatively, trying to draw one from her. "Yes? Deeks is right, right? Just say it, it won't kill you. Deeks is right."

He always, _always_ knew how to make her laugh.

"Okay, yes, Deeks is right. But I'm still sorry."

He pulled her closer, and kissed her.

"Apology accepted. And, just so we're on the same page about all of this…..Kens, it's true I went through something this morning, and it's true that a lot of what happened these past few months caught up with me. But it's also true that I'm still wearing my big boy pants. I can stand up to it. You don't need to be taking it all onto _your_ shoulders. Some things just 'are', they're nobody's fault. Can we agree on that?"

She gave him a reluctant smile. "Are you trying to get me to say that you're right again?"

He grinned, really grinned, for the first time today.

"Only if you think I am."

She returned the smile. "You are."

"As usual."

"Don't push your luck."

* * *

She took him home then, and they spent the rest of the day enjoying the fact that they had it together.

He made her join him in cooking a fancy lunch, and then tolerated two episodes of Top Model. She pretended to watch a Clippers game he'd recorded. It should have become a carefree, gifted day off, but it never quite got there.

Kensi noticed her lover receding into himself as the day progressed, and she worried that she hadn't succeeded in 'tending' to him as Hetty had instructed. By early evening he'd become nearly silent, his gaze reflective, an underlayment of sadness dimming his features. Kensi Blye, master ignorer, couldn't ignore it any longer. Not after what had happened that morning. She joined him on the sofa.

"Penny for your thoughts."

On any other day, he would have put her off, made a joke about something, changed the subject. But this day had been different, and his response was different as well.

"I guess I was just thinking of the other 'G' word. The other side of the coin."

She snuggled into him. "Gratitude? As in we have so much to be grateful for?"

He reached his arm around her, and pulled her closer.

"That one. And another one, one that Hetty didn't mention."

"Which is?"

"Guilt."

"Guilt? About what?"

Pushing up, turning to look at him, trying to read his features once again. Waiting him out, as he tried to untangle his thoughts.

"I guess I was thinking about all the things I have to be grateful for, you know? You, more than anything, and that you're back. The truly incredible fact that you love me."

She smiled, as he continued.

"Also the fact that I have a roof over my head. Monty. There's so much I take for granted. Thinking about it took me right back to the hospital. Kens, there was so much pain there, so much sorrow. Every time there was an emergency on the floor, or a code…. I thanked God that it wasn't you. But I also realized that it meant that someone _else_ had died, or come close. That there was someone else who wasn't going to get a happy ending."

It was something she'd experienced as well, and she told him about it.

"The whole time I was in rehab, I would look around me and see people with such devastating injuries. There was no chance that _they_ were going to regain the use of an arm or a leg, because they no longer had them. And I felt so guilty, that I was making progress, and they weren't. I felt guilty about ever even complaining about my own problems."

He pulled her back down to him, and held her close.

"Tell me about it. Every time I've done my homeless cover, I've had the same experience. Sure, it's tough spending a few nights on the streets, but at least I know it's only a few nights. Not like the others, who see nothing ahead of them but night after night after night of the same. What makes me so different from them? It's not like I'm more deserving."

She'd posed the very same question to herself, on more than one occasion.

"We're not, I guess. We're just blessed. And maybe we'll never understand it. Maybe all we're supposed to do, is to be aware of it, and grateful for it."

"That was the thing, I think. That's what hit me this morning. When you were in the hospital, when it took you so long to wake up…. I forced myself to let go of us ever having a normal life again. Hetty said I grieved it, and maybe I did. But it also helped me realize exactly what was important to me, and what I could live without. And I realized that I could live without 'normal', if I had to …..but I couldn't live without you."

Kensi reached her arm across him, squeezing.

"You _have_ me, sweetheart."

"I do." He nodded. "That's what did me in. It's like Hetty said. I had a moment of awareness. Here, I'd been prepared to give it all up, to do whatever I needed to do to help you adapt, if only I could have you back. And then, today…I know how hard you had to work for it, but …..there you were, back at OPS, back with the team, laughing and joking, and fighting the bad guys, just like before. Just like nothing had happened. And I realized that I'd been given _all_ of it. Everything I'd asked for, and everything I'd been resigned to giving up. There was nothing I'd done. No reason I deserved it more than someone else. But it was given to me, all of it. I remember thinking that, and then, the next thing I knew, I was on my knees."

Reminded of how overwhelmed he'd been, driven by her own need to console, every bit as aware as he was of the gift they'd been given, Kensi longed to hold him, to feel the weight of him against her. She shifted their positions, moving up on the sofa, so that she could put her arms around him, and draw his head to her chest. When he nestled in with a huge sigh, she could feel how much he'd needed it.

"Some things are too big for words, 'G' or not. You _showed_ your gratitude."

He ran his fingers up and down her forearm.

"Or _it_ showed _me_. I think I'm gonna ask the Big Guy if He can tone it down, in the future."

She giggled. "Maybe all He really wants is for us to pass it along. You know, to do something with the grace we've been given."

"Grace. Another 'G' word?"

"Damn good one, if I say so myself."

"I don't think you're supposed to curse in front of the Big Guy."

"Shut up."

The exchange inserted a bit of normalcy into a day that had seemed anything but. Emotionally spent, they lay in blissful silence for a long time, touching, kissing, holding, being. As night fell, Kensi decided she hadn't quite completed the mission she'd been appointed by their OPS manager. So she rose, and pulled him with her, and brought him to their bed.

There, she dutifully followed Hetty's instructions, and ever so slowly, and lovingly, she tended to Deeks.

For which he was very, very grateful.


End file.
